


Sparring Practice

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Knight [101]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 23:06:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Together.





	Sparring Practice

Poe knows he has no chance in hell of actually winning this fight. In fact, ‘fight’ is about as inaccurate a term as could possibly be employed right now. Even without the Force, Kylo has several advantages over him: his height and strength, his years of training… Poe is in decent physical shape, but he hasn’t got the muscle-memory that Kylo has. 

But this is not about winning, and never was. It’s about getting to admire his boyfriend’s skills and form: to see (and feel) first-hand how _deadly_ he is. To get both their hearts pumping faster, and… well. To see that toned, honed body put to another good use than just bedroom fun.

They aren’t using sabers, because Poe values his limbs and digits where they are, but the staves they are wielding will still hurt. He tries to spin it back and forth, but he can’t quite get the hang of it… not the way Kylo is currently demonstrating. The staves have a handgrip like a saber, with a small cross-guard to emulate Kylo’s blade, and to protect the hand. 

Spin, spin, and it’s… hypnotic. The way he moves as if the blade is an extension of his being. Poe could almost just watch that, but then he’s walked through the warm-up exercises by a firm, steady voice. Push, twist, turn, stretch, hold. Important to do, so he doesn’t end up aching _too_ much tomorrow. Twist, bend, hold. 

Kylo walks him through the steps of his kata, showing him the routine that’s both designed to get the body ready, and train in blocks and blows as second nature. To know how to flow from one height and position to another, to be ready to respond to an attack. He tries to lose himself in the physicality of it, to follow the instructions as if listening to his wing commander in the air… in this, Kylo knows best.

They finish their warm-up, and Poe squares off against him. For a moment, he realises he’s so intent on his body, on his stance, that he’s switched off his face. Then he sees the slight question on Kylo’s face, and he grins. 

“Ready?”  


“Ready.”  


There’s a period of circling, of testing and feinting, and then Kylo launches in. He blocks the attacks, though they’re not _that_ strong. 

“Come on,” Poe complains. “I’m not a padawan.”  


“A padawan would have the Force, and would also be taught to be patient,” Kylo reminds him.  


“Yeah, but you’re not exactly going to teach them that.”  


“Hence why I don’t have a padawan.”   


“And you have me.”  


Kylo chooses then to launch at him again, and this time Poe has to really focus. His lover’s height gives him an advantage, driving the blows down and trying to smack his hands away from his body. Laughing, Poe pushes back, fighting to keep any hits away from his body.

“You asked for it.”  


“I’m not complaining,” Poe says, backing up a bit to get some defensive space between them.   


Smack, smack, blow, whack to the outside of the knee. It stings his pride more than anything else, with the knowledge he’d just be crippled by that blow, if it was real. Poe feels a sudden rush of anger, a need to retaliate… and he goes full throttle at his Knight boyfriend.

Whack, crash, twist, duck. He knows he’s being ridiculous, but part of him knows he’s safe. Even if Kylo _could_ injure him, he wouldn’t. Even accidentally. He’s too cautious for that, no matter how much he insists he’s entirely impulse-driven and hot-headed.

He _is_ , but he has checks and balances. Limits he won’t go beyond, and one of those is hurting Poe.

Smack. Smack. Twirl.

It happens so fast he can’t even run back through the memories to see _how_. Suddenly he’s on his back, on the floor, with a wooden staff across his throat and a pair of thighs straddling him, keeping him down.

He feels embarrassed to have lost, but also… not. Because it’s Kylo, and because the look on his lover’s face is… it’s exhilarating. 

“Got you.”  


“So I do.”  


“What _ever_ will you do with me?”  


“I have some ideas.”  


Poe can tell.


End file.
